The Reid Effect
by DeejayMil
Summary: The humidity is rising and so is the scale of Morgan and Reid's prank war. What could possibly go astray with a harmless soaking for the hapless Dr. Reid?


**I'm reposting this as an ongoing goal to improve my writing. This was written about three years ago, and I decided it was time to re-write and hopefully turn it into something a little more worth reading.**

**Warning: An animal is harmed in this ficlet. If that upsets you, please do not read on.**

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><p>"<em>We interrupt your regularly scheduled musical selection with an important announcement: never wage a practical joke war against an MIT graduate, because we have a history of going nuclear. Now just sit back, relax, and enjoy the dulcet sounds of me, screaming in your ear."<em>

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><p>Derek tapped at the wheel impatiently, grinning at the memory of his co-worker's prank. Never let it be said that Derek Morgan let himself be beaten by a skinny genius in a vest, he'd been waiting for just the right time to get his revenge. The atmosphere had been tense around the two, as both waited for the other to strike. Hotch had finally lost his temper, and sent the two of them off to work off their energy elsewhere.<p>

Hotch had asked him and Reid to investigate the house of a suspected unsub and it was a job neither of them were looking forward to. The weather was hot and steamy, an uncomfortable summer day. By the time they reached the house they were both covered in a sheen of sweat, Reid drooping miserably as the heat hit as soon Morgan swung open the car door.

Morgan chuckled at Reid's glum expression. "Want me to check the area, kid?" Reid hesitated, then nodded silently, slumping back into the seat. Morgan let Reid stay inside in the relative cool, secure in his assumption that the yard and house would be empty.

The inside of the house was as stifling as outside, and as abandoned as expected. The lanky agent left through the front, and travelled along the fence line, keeping half an eye on the SVU containing his partner. As he glanced along the tops of the wooden slats into the desolate, square yard, he noticed something promising. The yard was mostly bare, except for a tangle of overgrown hedging at the back and a lawn slightly gone to seed.

A sprinkler, laying benignly along the path. The suspect had been a keen gardener along with his other, more sinister, hobbies and the sprinkler was designed to water the entire swathe of lawn alongside the house. It had been kicked up from the lawn by a careless foot and was crookedly pointing directly to the path.

Laying at the perfect angle to douse someone who wandered unsuspecting onto the path.

He glanced around quickly, pleasantly surprised to discover that the tap to turn the sprinkler on was on his side of the fence.

"Hey, Reid!" he shouted, trying to hide the grin, imagining his friends face when the sprinkler suddenly drenched him. He managed to straighten his facial expression to something almost resembling seriousness before the young genius popped his head out passenger window, frowning as the heat struck him.

Really, he was doing Reid a favour, cooling him down in this blistering heat. "Thought I saw something around the back, you wanna take a look, man?" he asked, nonchalantly.

Reid sighed and nodded, irritably exited the car. For a moment, Morgan felt a twinge of guilt. Spencer had been acting off all week, lethargic and glum. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to soak him if he was coming down with something… Of course, if he didn't do this he'd have to come up with something else, otherwise Garcia would never let him forget how the younger agent had gotten the better of him.

His hand on the tap, he watched Reid open the gate and walk into the backyard, hearing the latch bounce and click shut as it swung behind him. The young agent glanced around, not noticing the sprinkler and he turned back to Morgan, quizzical expression on his face at the apparently empty yard.

Morgan let his hand drop from the tap. He couldn't do it, not while Reid was this down. He shrugged, "I guess not, never mind," and turned, feeling oddly guilty, as though he'd done a great wrong. He heard Reid's footsteps behind him and the slight click of the latch as his friend followed him back to the car.

Reid, his mind clouded by the haze of a three day migraine, never even had time to pull his gun as the 75 pound retriever that had been stalking him from the shelter of the hedging crashed into him, knocking him solidly into the corner of the half open gate, and slamming his skull against the brickwork on the side of the house. All Morgan heard was a strangled cry, followed by the crack as Reid struck the surface, the dog deathly quiet and intent on its attack.

Spinning around, hand automatically reaching to his hip for his a gun, Morgan first felt a smile twitch at seeing the gold coat of a familiar, friendly breed. They hadn't even thought to check the backyard for pets, thinking correctly the home had been abandoned for almost two weeks.

In the absurdity of the moment, Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan took almost failed to react in time as he watched the dog's jaws close around his friend's throat, before firing three rounds into the animal.

Reid had fallen awkwardly against the gate pinning it half open against the house. Morgan didn't bother pulling it open, leaping the fence and landing next to the stunned agent. Half stunned, he shoved the dying dog aside, feeling a twinge of surreal guilt at the animal's plight even as he stripped his shirt to staunch the wound. Everything moved slowly, vivid and surreal all at once. Blood pounded in his ears and his body seemed to move jaggedly, as he took in the green of the grass and the blue sky against the vivid red splashed on the floor, his hands, and the glowing gold coat of the starving and maddened dog.

He was shouting as he pushed on his friend's neck, barely aware of the neighbours running towards him, calling something about an ambulance, someone dragging the dog away.

He could hear him chanting his friend's name under his breath as his hands grew sticky and the pulse under his palms stopped.

Bright blood on pale skin, his friend unmoving, waiting for the sirens but unable to hear them over the echoing nightmare of snarls and that sudden crack.

It was just a prank. A harmless prank.


End file.
